Replacing each and every
Pink, smooth, functional part
With tired gears,
And rusted strainers.
Eliminating some of the pressure
Of my misguided intuition.
Because this world has become a difficult thing to read-
No longer bound with familiar materials
Or printed in texts I’ve been
Trained to understand.
It’s unfortunate that my arms are so tired,
Because I know if I laced my fingers around all of
Your calm, sleeping faces
Would soothe me.
Let me breath a little deeper
And walk with a little less caution.